


Hand In Hand

by StarsCrackedOpen (Misthia)



Series: Things Carried, Unseen [9]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Best Friends, Developing Friendships, F/M, Force Bond (Star Wars), Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Laughter, Master & Padawan Relationship(s), Pre-Relationship, Trust, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:35:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26609119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misthia/pseuds/StarsCrackedOpen
Summary: “It’s beautiful,” she said, and now Anakindidpause, sparing her an appraising look. She meant it, looking over the intricate mechno-arm with keen interest. Her sincerity was plain in the Force, a soft glow in their new bond.“That’s a new one,” he replied after a moment, the corners of his mouth tugging up.Or: In which Ahsoka learns about his mechno-arm and Anakin reluctantly asks for help.
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano, Anakin Skywalker/Ahsoka Tano
Series: Things Carried, Unseen [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1839160
Comments: 20
Kudos: 231





	Hand In Hand

**Author's Note:**

> This is pretty light and fun. It’s really amazing how many hand-based idioms there are that we use without thinking about it, and thus surprisingly hard not to have either of them accidentally punning.
> 
> This starts off early season 1 or thereabouts, and moves from there to 3. As ever, I own nothing and make nothing from this. I read it over quickly, but wanted to post it before I get to the homework I really need to finish, so please forgive any errors/roughness.
> 
> Can be read as exceptionally deep platonic or pre-pre-relationship/pre-relationship, as you wish. Tagged as usual.

* * *

_“The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together.”_

_\- William Shakespeare, “All’s Well That Ends Well”_

* * *

Anakin _hated_ being sent to Tatooine for a _lot_ of reasons, but the sand that clung to him and settled into his boots and hair and _every kriffing fold_ of his clothing was easily the most irritating. It was a physical reminder of everything he wanted to leave behind, and he knew that even with his best efforts, he’d still be somehow finding it for _days_.

That didn’t stop him from trying to get it off anyway. As he and Ahsoka entered the Twilight and the hatch closed, he was already trying to brush it out of his robes. She perched on a crate in the cargo hold, unstrapping and shaking out her boots with a tired sigh.

Anakin’s voice was nearly a growl. “The sand. Gets. _Everywhere_.” He brought his hands up and violently shook out his hair — ignoring Ahsoka’s squawk of protest as he flung sand all over her — then headed to the bridge to set the navicomp so they could get off this karking planet already.

The glow as they jumped to hyperspace was welcome, and Anakin let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Every time he went to Tatooine, he hoped it would be the last. Two fruitless trips in twenty days was more than enough, and his patience had worn thin. Cursing the planet, the Hutts, and the blasted _sand_ a few more times for good measure, he headed back to the cargo bay. There he yanked off his armor, belt and outer tunic. He shook the garment out before putting it back on and heading into the crew quarters.

His padawan was sitting at the table, reading a datapad. He retrieved a small set of tools and sat down across from her, ready to attend to the next annoyance.

Anakin was scowling as he pulled off his gloves, shaking the grittiness out of them and tossing them on his bunk. He could tell some had made its way into his mechno-arm, a minuscule rasp in the servos. It _ground_ , the same way it would in the teeth. As he flexed his hand, something caught, and the last two fingers seized up with a whine. Lapsing into mumbled, _thoroughly_ profane Huttese, he pulled out a small brush and a probe and got to work.

A few minutes passed. Anakin, fully engrossed, didn’t realize until he looked up to switch probes that Ahsoka was peering over the edge of her datapad, observing intently.

Realizing he’d caught her watching, her eyes snapped down to her reading again. He glanced at her briefly, not bothering to pause in his task, but tempering his tone. He wasn’t angry with _her_. “You’re fine, Snips. Guessing you’ve never seen a mechno-arm before.”

Ahsoka shook her head, putting down the datapad. “Only diagrams. We heard it was the newest tech, allowing clones the ability to return to service and with less rehab time than other prosthetics. I knew you had one, but that’s nothing like the drawings we saw.”

“I think I’m the first of the Jedi to have one.” He laid down the probe and selected another tool. “I enhanced it,” Anakin added with pride. “It was mostly just the frame when I got it. I added the plating, reinforced it, _and_ managed to decrease signal delay. With my modifications, it’s superior in most ways to an organic hand.”

Ahsoka’s gaze ran over the prosthetic, clearly fascinated. The fingertips and underlying structure were gold, and the outer layers were sleek black, the components interweaving to resemble the musculature of a humanoid arm.

“It’s beautiful,” she said, and now Anakin _did_ pause, sparing her an appraising look. She meant it, looking over the intricate construction with keen interest. Her sincerity was plain in the Force, a soft glow across their new bond.

“That’s a new one,” he replied after a moment, corners of his mouth tugging up. A new warmth settled between them in the Force. He selected another brush and looked up at her briefly, the smile becoming rueful before he started working again. “There are some in the Order who think that it lessens my...humanity.”

Ahsoka’s eyes darted up to his face, looking skeptical. “That doesn’t make any sense. It’s your _arm_ , not your mind.”

“Thank you Snips, I’m glad _you_ at least think I’m a person.” There was a dry humor in his tone, but Ahsoka picked up the undercurrent.

She tilted her head. “By ‘ _some_ ,’ you mean members of the council, don’t you.”

Anakin looked up at her evenly. She was proving more observant than he’d given her credit for. He said nothing — it was reply enough on its own. Ahsoka shook her head but for once didn’t push further, and he returned to his cleaning.

“Can you... _feel_ with it?”

“Yes, actually. The fingertips are electrostatic. It’s integrated to my nervous system via the interface at myelbow...” He trailed off for a moment as he worked at a fiddly connection. “So I have a sense of touch. Of a sort.”

It was comfortably quiet for a while as he cleaned and reconnected, occasionally pointing out a component or coupling, finally reaching the seized servo. Hoping to avoid taking it fully apart, he pried one edge of the casing up, slipping the brush in to clear out the sand stuck there. He let it spring shut again. “Here goes nothing...”

The servo now realigned, his fingers stuttered, twitching back to life. He was able to curl them into his palm now. It was better, but still felt wrong. Ahsoka tilted her head, frowning. “Something is still off, isn’t it?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You’re right, but how could you tell?”

She shook her head, looking intently at his wrist. “It...doesn’t sound right.”

He eyed her, a little skeptical. “You could hear that?”

Ahsoka looked up and nodded, tapping a montral. Anakin _hmm_ ’ed, slightly impressed, and continued. They had plenty of time until they reached Coruscant, and this, _this_ he could definitely teach. “Well then, want to learn how to fix it?”

Her responding smile was bright, and her enthusiasm glowed in the Force.

* * *

It was well over a year later when Anakin found himself in a med tent on Actlyon, being splinted by Kix. The Separatists’ invading force had been driven off-world for the time being by the 501st, but he sensed they’d be back and in greater numbers. His left arm had been fractured in several places when he’d tried to Force-deflect the shockwave from some prototype charge they’d been using. It had worked, but at the cost of his bones. And his _right_ arm...

Rex entered, removing his helmet. “Sir. General Kenobi reports he and the rest of the fleet are one rotation out.”

Anakin was glad to hear it. “Finally some good news. Casualties?”

His captain looked solemn. “Yes, sir. Two dozen, not including...” Rex nodded at Anakin’s arm, then continued grimly. “Eight deaths.”

Anakin considered. In truth, it could have been much worse. “Set up the watch as we discussed earlier. I don’t want them trying to sneak up on us.”

“Yes sir.” Rex left the med tent, and Kix gave Anakin an injection for the pain and swelling, which was admittedly worse than he’d expected. Once reinforcements had arrived on cruisers, it could be dealt with. His more immediate concern was his other arm. The same charges that broke his organic arm had fried the synthetic, and it had seized completely, bent slightly by his side. No one seemed to have noticed except him, and he wanted to keep it that way. No one had to know that the general couldn’t use either arm, not when there was still a chance of another attack — and when he had a spare he could swap it with. He stood to leave.

But, he realized as he left the tent, with his other arm in the state it was, he couldn’t do it alone. And Artoo was on the cruiser with Obi-Wan.

No one but Artoo had helped him switch his arm out since he’d first been fitted with it. But this time the trusty astromech wasn’t here to help, and he couldn’t afford to wait. That left only one possibility.

“Ahsoka.”

She was waiting outside the med tent for him, speaking with Rex, and at his call nodded to Rex and turned to Anakin. He gestured with his head and she fell into step beside him.

“How’s your arm?”

He sighed, glancing down at the splinted limb. “Nothing a bacta tank won’t fix. I need your help with something.”

If she was surprised, her face didn’t show it. “Of course.” She followed him into their tent and waited, a question in her eyes.

He awkwardly turned the seized arm so that she could see its rigidity. “My mechno-arm is damaged, too badly to fix here. With my other arm broken, I...can’t swap it out myself. I can talk you through it.”

Now she looked a little surprised, but nodded gamely. “What do I need to do?”

“Get out the spare first, it’s in a box in my footlocker. The tools you need are there too.” He nodded toward his cot, and Ahsoka opened the locker and pulled out the box, bringing it over to the small table and setting it on the floor.

Anakin nudged a chair into place with his foot and sat. He swung his arm from the shoulder, hauling it up onto the table with a muffled _thunk_. He really _hated_ being seen this way by anyone, but there wasn’t much choice — it was accept her help or remain functionally incapacitated.

She laid out the tools and looked at him. “All right, ready.”

“Need to get the glove off first.” Ahsoka reached for the wrist clasp and unbuckled it. She worked her way up his forearm, eyes flickering up to his own briefly before peeling the leather gently off the seized limb.

She rolled his sleeve up his arm, cuffing it above the port. Her master’s mechno-arm was as striking as ever, even though she now saw it fairly frequently. The golden fingertips and chassis gleamed through the sleek black plates, though it clearly had taken some damage and smelled faintly of ozone. Ahsoka smiled at it, and then up at him. Her appreciation of it was plain in the Force.

Anakin relaxed a little. As much as he enjoyed the advantages of his mechno-arm, having it bare, badly damaged, and about to be removed felt...vulnerable. But this was Ahsoka, and Force knew she had seen him in pretty much every battered state imaginable. At least this time he wasn’t bleeding out on her.

“All right. Take the number three—” He nodded at the screwdriver. “And remove the plate at the base of the thumb.”

Ahsoka picked up the tool, and cradling his hand in her own, bent her head and started at the screws. Anakin started to feel oddly self-conscious at being worked _on_ , and she must have picked up on it.

“It looks a little different again. Did you make more modifications before we left?”

Always happy to talk tech, Anakin seized the opening. “I made more _improvements_. Replaced some of the conduit, and increased the sensitivity of the fingertips.”

She smiled, shaking her head slightly. “Show-off,” she said warmly, and Anakin relaxed a little more. The last screw was loosened, and she disconnected the plate, setting it carefully aside. He nodded.

“Good. Slide a probe behind the power cell relative to the palm. There’s a switch there to power it down.”

She did as he said, but it was an awkward angle. The probe brushed one of the damaged transmitter casings. Anakin made an odd strangled noise, and Ahsoka froze. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, it... _tickled_.” He frowned. “Probably just a nerve firing.” Ahsoka looked at him, a mischievous smile on her lips as she disengaged the power cell.

“I didn’t know you’re _ticklish_.” He glared in response and the smile widened as she removed the probe. “Power’s off.”

“All right. Now you need to disengage the connections to the port...”

She worked her way around the arm, popping the clasps that secured the arm to the receiving port and trying not to catch him in the jaw with her montral in the process.

The last clasp disconnected, the chassis’ docking mechanism released, and Anakin nodded. “That’s it. Now just...pull.” She did. The arm detached fully, coming off easily in her hands. Without the dead weight of the damaged prosthetic, Anakin took the opportunity to stretch out his residual limb, shoulder popping loudly.

Ahsoka blinked — and Anakin supposed that the only other times she had seen someone suddenly missing a limb were bloody and on the battlefield — but seemed unperturbed. She was turning the arm over in her hands to get a better look at the interface to the port. As much as he appreciated her admiration of it, he wanted to move this along. They were still in a war tent on a newly retaken world, and each second that ticked by without an arm — _any_ arms, given the state of the other — he felt more and more unpleasantly vulnerable.

“Let’s keep moving, Snips. I need at least _one_ good arm here.”

She looked up from where she was now closely inspecting the upgraded fingertips. “Sorry.”

Ahsoka opened the box on the floor, revealing the backup — not quite as intricate, but plated similarly. She gently placed the damaged one in its place and brought the spare up to the table, checking that the latches were in the correct positions. She removed the same plate that covered the base of the thumb, then aligned the mechno-arm with the port.

“Ready?” She asked.

“Ready.” He braced, Ahsoka pushed, and the limb connected with a loud _click_ as the latches sprang closed. She let go of it slowly, then brought the probe under the thumb and engaged the power cell. Anakin hissed as the nerves reconnected fully and fired off, sparks shooting into his shoulder. Ahsoka looked up at him with concern.

“Are you all right?”

He nodded, the feeling having mostly subsided. “That’s normal,” he said. “The nerves don’t have any input, and then suddenly they do again. It feels like an electric shock, but it goes away quickly.”

Ahsoka shook her head, reattaching the plate, then tucking the tools back into their roll and closing the box with the damaged limb. “Doesn’t sound very fun.” She straightened back up. Anakin propped his elbow on the table, looking at the palm and then the back of the hand, testing all the small joints. Ahsoka placed her smaller palm against his, aligning their fingers, and tapped each fingertip with her own. “Everything have feeling?”

He nodded, interlacing their fingers, gauging the different sensitivity and gently squeezing her hand. Then he released it and flexed his wrist a few more times, getting used to the slightly alien feeling of this arm. Satisfied, he lowered it back to the table, and Ahsoka reached forward and rolled his sleeve back down, then helped him pull his glove back on and re-buckled it — he still had only one functional hand. This completed, he stood and stretched the whole arm, feeling much better.

“Thanks, Snips. You did a good job.”

She smiled. “Is it too weird to say it was fun?”

One corner of his mouth tugged upward, fondness blooming in his chest. “A little, but — not to me.” The swell of affection wound through the bond. “C’mon, I’m starving.”

“You’re _always_ starving,” Ahsoka said, with that same fondness, and Anakin smiled in spite of himself. A sort of brightness shone between them, in spite of where they were and why they were there. In spite of the fact that she’d just replaced one of his arms after a bomb’s blast had broken both. There was a particular ease to Ahsoka’s company that he’d come to rely on, and found himself missing when she wasn’t there.

 _It feels_ , he thought wryly, _almost like missing a hand._ He dismissed the pang of anxiety that train of thought sparked, as he knew it would — she wasn’t going anywhere.

She followed him out of the tent, falling into step beside him as usual. As they headed toward the heart of the camp, Ahsoka giggled, quickly trying to bite back the smile spreading over her face.

He raised an eyebrow and glanced at her. “And just _what_ is so funny?”

Now she grinned, eyes sparkling at him in an expression he had seen less and less as the war dragged on — and which he found far more disarming than it had any right to be. There was a playful nudge in the bond.

“ _Really_ , Skyguy — how did I never know you’re _ticklish_?”

He rolled his eyes and scowled, heart feeling unusually light. Ahsoka laughed, and the Force felt warm and close around them; the next battle a little further away.

**_Fin._ **

**Author's Note:**

> I didn’t really have a way to work this in without sacrificing flow, but in the first part I imagine Anakin just _cursing_ under his breath in a long string of fluent Huttese invective, and Ahsoka catching just bits and pieces of insults and other profanity that she recognizes, eyes wide and brows shot up to her akul teeth, both impressed and a little astonished at her master swearing like an Outer Rim pirate.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it! Please let me know what you think — good, bad, or otherwise. Comments make my day.


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